


Speechless

by The_Lady_Crane



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Facials, Fluff and Smut, I'm Bad At Summaries, Intimacy, Just soul mates learning to communicate about sex, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Mild Language, One Shot, Oral Sex, Porn with Feelings, some food kink, thigh kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 17:02:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29936595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Lady_Crane/pseuds/The_Lady_Crane
Summary: Communication is difficult, and Soren sometimes has to devise creative ways to tell his partner what he wants. Fortunately, Ike always understands. In the end, they don't need words to communicate.---PWP with a side of fluff and feels.
Relationships: Ike/Senerio | Soren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12





	Speechless

**Author's Note:**

> I have wanted to do this for AGES. I've had it sitting around unfinished, and I decided to just go for it and write the damn thing. Enjoy!

It is often said that the cornerstone of a healthy relationship is communication.

Soren doesn’t worry too much about that. When it comes to his and Ike’s relationship, they have always understood one another. A nod, a frown, a grunt, or a vague hand gesture… Any of these is usually sufficient to communicate the intended message. Over the years, Soren has become more and more comfortable with communicating in this way. He feels confident that he is understood, and that he understands Ike’s intentions.

And yet, there are still things that are hard to convey.

They’ve been together for years now, though physical intimacy is still new to them. Soren tries. He really does try his best to read Ike’s moods, to satisfy his needs. And he does try to let Ike know what he needs, too. As little as he understands about the emotional aspects of sex, he does know that Ike prefers for Soren to feel pleasure. Soren wants the intimacy, and he wants the closeness of Ike’s body against his. He wants to feel vulnerable in Ike’s arms. He just doesn’t know how to ask.

On this particular day, he’s feeling that clawing need deep in his core. It’s been too long since they had a respite from travel, but now they’re staying in a cozy little inn at the foot of the mountains. Their journey has afforded them few opportunities for privacy lately; they’ve been traveling with a merchant caravan, and there just isn’t the time or the space.

Tonight, they have their own room. They’ll have this little piece of heaven for three more days before the caravan moves out. It’s an opportunity that neither Ike nor Soren can waste.

Ike took him on the first night. It was gentle and unhurried, and Soren had felt the tension melt away under Ike’s hands. He had felt the vanguard relaxing, too, under his ministrations. Ike had slept peacefully that night, and Soren had lain awake, just breathing in the scent of the man who was his world.

But now, there is something else on Soren’s mind. He wants Ike, but he wants him in a specific way. How exactly, Soren thinks, does one go about asking for a blowjob?

To Soren, outright asking is out of the question. Ike would probably prefer it, but Soren can’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. He has just recently become comfortable with squeezing Ike’s hand in that particular way that says, _Let’s go to bed._ He hasn’t yet developed a method for indicating his desire to have Ike’s mouth on him.

Soren shivers just thinking about it. When Ike does down on him, it gives him an unparalleled thrill. Having that head of blue hair between his legs, the broad shoulders spreading his thighs apart…

“Right…” Soren mutters to himself, switching over to tactical thinking. He wants Ike’s mouth on him. How to accomplish that?

He spends all afternoon devising a plan of action.

>>><<<

Ike returns to the inn just before sundown. It’s been a busy day hauling product for the merchants, and he’s ready to call it quits. He’s filthy, sweaty, probably smelly, and he hasn’t eaten a lot. The smell of food coming from the inn’s kitchen is like a kick to the gut.

Soren is waiting for him in the doorway.

“What have you been up to all day?” Ike asks, pausing as Soren gets out of the way.

“Calculating,” Soren says enigmatically. “Dinner has already been served, but I saved you a plate.”

Ike visibly perks up. “Thanks. In our room?”

“No, at a table. You can eat first, and then take a bath.”

“Sounds great to me.”

Soren follows Ike, though he doesn’t eat anything, himself. He explains that he’s eaten already. Ike doesn’t notice that Soren is fidgeting nervously. The two-time world hero is absorbed with demolishing his dinner, sating the ravenous hunger built up over a long day of work. He doesn’t ask what calculations Soren had been working on, either. If he had, he might have suspected something from the furtive way Soren glances around, or from the way he lightly bites his lower lip.

When Ike goes to bathe, Soren returns to their room. Though Ike would like to relax with him, he senses that something is on Soren’s mind. He must not be done with whatever had previously occupied him. After a vigorous scrub-down and a quick soak, Ike is eager to get to bed and hear all about Soren’s day.

The room is small, but it’s the best one in the house – an indulgence that Soren had decided on, as a reward for their hard work with the caravan. It’s located on the inn’s third floor, and its large open window overlooks the town. Everything is painted gold in the evening light, with deep purple shadows falling over vast swaths of the settlement. Twinkling lights are popping up in the windows. Down the street, a brothel has opened its doors to customers, advertised by the deep red glow of dozens of shaded lanterns. Inside, the room is cast in pinkish light reflected in the redwood furniture.

Ike doesn’t see his companion. “Soren?” he calls, closing the door behind himself.

“I’m here,” Soren says, his voice coming from behind the screen that normally rolls over the window. Ike can now see him silhouetted against the red light from the window, a lithe shadow shifting about as he changes clothes. It’s a little strange for Soren to change behind the screen, but Ike doesn’t ask about it.

He can’t know that Soren is steeling his nerves. He can’t hear the frantic beating of Soren’s heart. He simply flops onto the double bed, letting out a contented sigh and feeling the breeze play against his exposed arms and face. “What did you do today?” he asks.

Soren hesitates before answering. “Nothing too taxing. The innkeeper allowed me to take a look at her books for a fee. I found a good bargain on lantern oil in the market.”

“You have a talent for handling money,” Ike says appreciatively. “I’m glad you’re in charge of the budget.”

“Hmm.”

“Soren, are you OK?” Ike finally asks, propping up on his elbow. “You seem distracted.”

Another long pause. Soren’s form shifts from behind the screen, and Ike notes that Soren is wearing one of his own old shirts. This isn’t too uncommon – he often wears it for a nightshirt. But Ike is beginning to understand that when the baggy red cloth appears, it’s Soren’s way of initiating a night of passion. It’s happened a few times before. The sight is like a beacon, drawing him in. Slim thighs are revealed to Ike’s eyes beneath the tattered hem of the shirt. A bare shoulder is exposed by the sagging collar.

Soren looks at Ike with a curious expression on his face. “I was just irritated,” he says at length, “to find a smear of jam on my leg.”

The corner of Ike’s mouth twitches. “Jam?”

“Mm. I was in a hurry this morning to eat breakfast before I got dressed. It must have fallen there without my noticing.” He grimaces. “It’s sticky now.”

The smear of red on Soren’s leg, far above his knee, draws Ike’s attention. For a moment, the two things – the jam and the red shirt – confuse him. Two topics, two conflicting ideas. Soren is wearing the shirt, and so he must want to have sex; but now he’s talking about jam stains.

“There’s no more water in the basin,” Soren says, and Ike gets the feeling that there’s something he’s missing, here. He’s supposed to glean something from that statement, though what it is, he hasn’t the foggiest idea. He frowns.

“Want me to get some?”

Soren lets out a sigh, barely audible. Ike grows even more confused – what did he miss? What does Soren want?

When Soren walks to the little table in the corner, Ike begins to understand. The sage lifts a leg and rests his foot on one of the chairs, exposing even more of his scarred thigh. The red streak snakes upward and inward, disappearing out of sight beneath the shirt. Ike’s eyes follow it, then snap up to Soren’s face. Soren is looking down at his leg. He glances at Ike, and then back to his leg, repeating this motion a few times.

It clicks. “Here, I’ll help,” Ike says, feeling the gears shift as he rises from the bed. His eyes are fixed on that line of crimson, until he’s kneeling in front of Soren, poised with his face right next to Soren’s thigh. Gently, he places a hand on Soren’s calf.

He looks up, only once, to check Soren’s reaction. Their eyes meet briefly, and Ike recognizes that look. This is what Soren wants. Satisfied with this conclusion, Ike grips Soren’s other thigh and leans closer. His tongue darts out to taste raspberry.

In his mind’s eye, he can see Soren’s face: flushed, embarrassed, but pleased. Ike licks at the sticky trail, and then presses his lips close to suck at it. A soft sound, a breathy moan, makes his knees tremble against the floor. His hands tighten just a bit, while one thumb smooths up and down Soren’s leg. He eases up on the pressure, feeling Soren’s muscles shift, and then sucks again, harder this time.

“A- ah…” Slim fingers card through Ike’s hair, lovingly. Ike closes his eyes and inhales the scent of soap and musk and mountain air. Soren has grown a bit since they set out on their journey, and there are several more inches of thigh to explore nowadays. Ike takes his time, lapping up the jam and leaving kisses and light nips in his wake.

He can remember being eighteen or nineteen and practically worshiping these thighs and their owner – something that he’s done every day since. Soren had been gorgeous then, but now he is truly blossoming into the body of a young man. His thighs are lean muscle, toned from days of walking. The voice that issues from between petal-pink lips is deeper now. Ike takes a moment to let his hands roam upward, feeling a longer torso, a firmer backside, the wisps of well-brushed hair that now reaches nearly to Soren’s rear.

Intentionally, he passes over the place where Soren so obviously wants to be touched. Ike can feel the firm organ jutting outward, but he isn’t going to go there just yet. He can feel Soren’s tension, his anticipation, as he lets calloused fingertips trail up and down beneath the shirt. Soren isn’t wearing anything beneath it; that realization draws heat to Ike’s own loins.

Yesterday, they had come together like two thunderheads. They had clashed in their pent-up frustration, their shared desire to have each other and to reaffirm their intimate bond. It had been over relatively quickly. Tonight, Ike intends to take his time. They will take full advantage of their days in this town.

“Nnh…” Soren is trying so hard to stay quiet. Though Ike’s licking up and down his thigh in slow, careful motions, the tension is building. Ike’s hands settle at Soren’s ass, and Ike pulls him a little closer, finishing off the last traces of the jam. He can now feel that insistent hardness against his cheek. Deftly, teasingly, Ike nudges it out of the way as he maneuvers to mouth at Soren’s balls.

This grants him a full moan, which Ike savors with a pleasant tingling in his groin. He thinks that he could get off just by listening to Soren’s voice. The fingers in his hair are now digging a bit harder into his scalp. As if realizing how hard he’s gripping, Soren’s hands relax, stroking instead of tugging, but Ike doesn’t mind either way. Soren’s excitement is only ramping him up, as well.

He can feel a tremor beginning to overtake Soren’s legs, and he knows that it isn’t necessarily from holding the position. Even so, Ike wedges his shoulders further in between Soren’s legs, allowing Soren to lean fully on him. The sage’s hand rests on Ike’s shoulder, while the other continues to stroke through his hair.

Ike sucks on one side, and then the other. He licks from the bottom to the top, lightly nipping with his lips at velvety soft skin. Soren is letting out soft whimpers now. The hand leaves Ike’s shoulder to push against Soren’s mouth in a futile attempt at silence. Ike indulges himself in a moment of victory, teasing Soren’s balls for a moment longer before finally working his way up.

When hot lips and tongue begin massaging Soren’s cock, all he can think about is how wonderful it feels and how difficult it is not to pull Ike’s hair. Ike’s hands are roaming again, his thumbs dipping into the creases between Soren’s thighs and his pelvis. His hands spread out, the tips of his fingers teasing at Soren’s buttocks, spreading them apart as his tongue plays with a ring of foreskin.

“I- Ike!” Soren’s voice hikes an octave when Ike suddenly takes him into his mouth. It’s a move that Soren had not anticipated, and it was done deliberately. Ike had taken the opportunity when he’d felt Soren beginning to relax into the rhythm of his explorations.

Soren has grown here, too, and Ike appreciates how well he’s developed. Long and smooth and nearly straight, Soren has a slight curvature in the upper portion of his shaft. Ike can get it about halfway in before he’s pulling back again, and Soren’s hips follow him, a long moan taking both of them by surprise. Ike likes the sound, so he does it again, and again – going deep, rubbing his tongue against the underside, and pulling back with a dragging lick and a pop of the head past his lips.

“Y- you’re teasing me!” Soren can’t help himself. He’s biting the back of his hand, the other now gripping the table for support (and to prevent himself from yanking Ike’s hair out by the roots).

Ike looks up at him with his mouth half full of dick. He can’t form a smirk with his lips, but Soren sees it playing in his eyes. Ike sees a man who is on the verge of losing himself, flushed from chest to forehead, eyes glazed with need. He pauses for a moment to consider his next move, and then angles his throat and takes Soren deeper.

“Mmnhaaah!” That is a new sound from Soren. It would be hot if Ike were not so focused on keeping himself from gagging. Soren has done this for him several times, but he’s never attempted it, himself. He tries to do what Soren does, keeping his neck limber and his throat relaxed. Soren had once explained how he had learned it (by reading it in a book, of all things), but Ike suspects that Soren just lacks any sort of gag reflex. It’s far more difficult than Soren had made it sound.

As if sensing this roadblock, Soren’s hips still and his hands return to Ike’s head. This time, he’s rubbing gently, combing through Ike’s hair, one hand descending to stroke the top of his cheek. Ike can’t lean into the caress, but he cups Soren’s rear in his hands, squeezing very gently. It’s an intimate gesture, loving. It helps Ike to relax. Soren’s breaths are now deep, if still heavy and a little uneven. He’s trying to keep himself under control.

That won’t do, Ike thinks.

Despite appearances, Ike is the one who more often enjoys slow, sensual lovemaking. He can work Soren over for hours, if given the time and privacy. But Soren likes it rough. He likes to go hard and fast, once the tender foreplay is over. He prefers it towards the end, when Ike falls into the primal side of their bodies joining together.

Ike begins to pull back again, sucking lightly, and then sinking down once more. Each time brings Soren deeper. Ike breathes slowly and carefully, and finally, the swollen flesh moves past his mouth and into his throat. Ike relaxes his jaw, looks up at Soren, and hums low and soft.

Soren understands, and his mind blows a fuse as soon as he gets it. That Ike would understand so thoroughly what he needs is a testament to how well they know each other, and it sends a shock of arousal and love straight through Soren’s body. He bites his lip, grips Ike’s hair, and starts to tentatively thrust.

The vanguard lets Soren use his mouth now, feels the hot, hard length sliding in and out of his throat. He focuses on breathing, and lets Soren satisfy his needs. The sight and the sounds of Soren falling deeper and deeper are almost too much to bear. If Ike were not so intent on his current task, he would bend Soren over and fuck him senseless right now. His own cock is heavy in his trousers, almost pulsing with want. Soren’s ecstasy only makes the situation harder to ignore. It is with a Herculean effort that Ike clamps his thighs together, grips Soren’s ass harder, and slams himself onto the shaft penetrating his throat.

The sight of Ike kneeling like this, the feel of his throat constricted around him, sends Soren over the edge before he can warn Ike. He shrieks as he comes, his fingers burrowing in Ike’s scalp so hard that it must be painful. Ike does not back away. Instead, he presses up against Soren, his nose buried in black curls, head bobbing with the rhythm of Soren’s thrusting hips.

All at once, the strength leaves Soren’s body. He pulls back, and Ike takes deep, gasping breaths, dizzy from a lack of air and an excess of arousal. A thin white string connects them for a moment, snapping as Soren falls into the chair. Ike is still kneeling, his hands now stroking up and down Soren’s thighs. They’re both flushed, and Soren’s eyes are heavily lidded, his lips parted.

“S- so…” Soren pants.

“Yeah,” Ike says, voice a little hoarse. His throat will be sore tomorrow, but tonight, he’s very pleased with himself. Also very turned on.

“D- do you…” The sage can’t finish that question, but his eyes dart down Ike’s body, and Ike stands up.

“Just…” Ike unbuttons his pants. He doesn’t need to say it; Soren is already leaning forward, opening his mouth wider but not touching the erect penis that springs free of its confines. This is just the way Ike wants him. The vanguard takes himself in hand and starts pumping.

It doesn’t take long before Ike is doubled over, leaning on Soren’s shoulder with one hand while the other slides up and down his shaft. Soren closes his eyes just in time to catch a stream of cum across his face, and he angles his mouth so that he can taste the next. His lips close around Ike’s cockhead for the third and final offering, and he sucks greedily, licking every last trace, even lapping inside the slit.

Ike stumbles backward and drops to the bed. For a moment, they just watch each other – Soren limp in the chair, Ike boneless on the bed. Then Ike opens his arms, and Soren rises on shaking legs to join him. They both fall into the bed, curling into each other and waiting for the world to form itself around them once more.

“That was what you wanted, right?” Ike says after a long while.

“Mmhm.” Soren nuzzles under Ike’s chin. “I finally thought of a way to ask you.”

“You could’ve just asked.”

Soren just shakes his head, hiding his face. He could never just come out and ask that.

“Why not?” Ike says, only half serious – he knows that Soren has a difficult time asking for this kind of thing. “How hard is it to just say, ‘Ike, I want you to blow me’?”

“Ugh…” Soren grips Ike’s shirt. “I can’t say that!”

“But you can show off with your legs bare like that,” Ike points out with a slight smile.

“Would you rather I simply say it, then? If you don’t want to see my legs…”

“No, no, I want to!” Ike pulls Soren in for a tighter hug, laughing. “I mean, how is it easier to show than to tell?”

“Somehow, it is. Especially with you.” Soren sighs then, relaxing into Ike’s hold. “Sometimes, I don’t know how to say what it is that I want. But with you…”

He trails off, and Ike leans down to kiss the top of his head. “I know,” he says. “Me, too.”

With another sigh of contentment, Soren closes his eyes. Once again, they don’t need words.


End file.
